


Catalysis

by cellardoor



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellardoor/pseuds/cellardoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set the night before 'Depths'. Wally hates it. He's going to come home to a clean, organised (empty) house tomorrow, and it's going to feel wrong and horrible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalysis

Wally's never had needy sex before.

 

Well, not _clingy_ needy, just regular 'why-are-you-watching-tv-when-you-should-be-putting-your-hand-down-my-pants' kind of needy. 

 

But not needy like _this_ , never like this, and he's not sure he likes it at all. He kind of wants to stop, but it's _tomorrow_ , and she's trying so hard, trying to make it a good send-off.

"Artemis," he tries, weakly, "Do you… do you have to go?"

"Yes." She says, a little sharply.

"I don't want you to." It sounds needlessly pathetic even to his ears.

She sighs, and probably rolls her eyes. Wally can't see in the dark.

"Well, tough," she says, but her voice is gentle. He's static with misery and remorse, so she nudges him until he rolls over and straddles him purposefully. It just feels kind of wrong, because he want to cry a little bit. It's funereal and fucked up and he _doesn't like it_.

 

She came home with a bulging armful of groceries, stuffed the freezer to the brim, all the while babbling about sell-by dates and not eating takeouts and other things that pale in significance to her _leaving him tomorrow_. She's done all his laundry in a spurt of worried, guilty diligence that hits him like a dead weight when he opens his drawers to see she's _folded his underwear._ She's pretending to be normal, and it's not working. The only time she ever usually touches his dirty underwear is to throw it at his head by way of telling him to do his own damn laundry. 

 

He _hates_ it. He's going to come home to a clean, organised ( _empty_ ) house tomorrow, and it's going to feel wrong and horrible. Maybe he'll throw his clothes around a bit. Put some dirty dishes out on the side until they start to smell. Leave the seat up. _Anything_.

 

She's gone brisk. She always goes brisk when she's uncomfortable, and she thinks it isn't obvious, but it totally is. She's pulling his pants down _briskly_ , and getting undressed _briskly_ , and it's clinical and weird.

 

Of course, his genitals betray him, _the bastards_ , and so she thinks everything is ok. He doesn't want to burst her bubble. His body doesn't care if it's weird, because it's still sex, and his body is an indiscriminate fucker, sometimes. She even smiles a tiny bit, and kisses his jaw as she slides down onto him. She moves, and it's wonderful and horrible all at once, and Wally buries his head in the crook of her neck, willing himself not to cry. That would be ridiculous. It would be totally ridiculous if he cried. He's a grown ass man. Getting laid. Crying is not the right reaction, not by half.

 

He runs his hand down her back, and it's not so much committing it to his memory as reminding himself exactly how aware he is of every insignificant detail. There's no need to pay extra attention; he knows every last scar, mole, and tiny blemish that makes it _Artemis,_ and not anybody else. He could live to be a thousand years old and he'll never forget things like that. Christ, he's such a hopelessly lost cause. What will he do without her?

 

She's not gone yet, though, not quite - so he presses himself against her, finding as much skin as he can to cover with his. He just _wants_ her. He wants her to stay and eat popcorn and watch movies on netflix and bicker over who has to get up and fetch the blankets. He wants freezer space to be their biggest problem. He wants in-depth discussions over dinner to be about whose family they spend Christmas with. He's sick of masks, and superpowers, and uppity Batboys who think they can just tear his life apart for the sake of their stupid mission. 

 

The masked life is like some kind of fucked up gravitational force. He knew this would happen, he _expected_ this to happen - but not yet, please, just a _few more years_ -

 

"Stop thinking," she murmurs, kissing his neck languidly, and he tries, he really does. He kisses her fiercely, slowly rolling her onto her back and setting an angle that makes her let out a low, contended noise. He'll miss that noise, and it hurts. He's glad it's dark. He's a stupid, soppy idiot.

 

He is determined to make the best of this, so he pushes her buttons in all the ways he knows how. He's miserable, and desperate, but five years of careful data gathering and enthusiastic application to the task at hand apparently trumps being a clingy, pitiable loser. He finishes, too, vaguely aware of Artemis kissing the tears from his cheeks softly. To think he'd thought he'd got away with it.

 

"You big baby," she whispers, stroking his hair. He feels stupid, and his eyes are prickling again.

"I'm not crying," he mumbles, "I'm washing my eyes out with a saline solution."

"Oh, naturally." Artemis grins, still beneath him and seemingly loathe to move. "Those things get dirty."

"Damn right," he grumbles, extricating his sweaty self from the tangle of limbs. She immediately pulls him back, and he wraps himself around her, sticky and damp. 

"But if you were crying-"

"Which I obviously wasn't."

" _Obviously._ But if you were-"

"-hypothetically-"

"-then I'd tell you to _stop worrying._ " She playfully slaps his backside, and he yelps.

"You know what, I've changed my mind. Leave. I don't have to deal with this abuse," he babbles, and she smiles and kisses him, her lips salty and reassuring.

"I'll be back," she says sleepily, nuzzling into him and closing her eyes. "It's just one last time, as a favour, right?"

"Promise?" Wally says, and it's a dangerous word, but she's sleepy and soft, and somewhat forgiving.

"Mmm," she says, before her breath evens out and she falls asleep. Wally doesn't miss the non-committal nature of her reply, and he stares at the ceiling, miserable all over again.

 

Artemis never made promises she couldn't keep. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I should not be allowed to write sex, ever. *hides*


End file.
